


Those days when it felt like snow

by meeokie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, M/M, eggnog was had, lance is a light weight, shiro is large and handsome per usual, shklance - Freeform, someone cries but not in a bad way, spongebob underwear, warning christmas presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17082518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeokie/pseuds/meeokie
Summary: This groan was worse, deeper and more painful as Lance tried to burrow further into his pillows and block out the rest of the world. “Please. Please tell me I didn’t….”“I mean, you were going to but Shiro pushed your shirt down and your jeans back up and we said our goodbyes. Merry Christmas to everyone that got to see your SpongeBob underwear, I guess.”





	Those days when it felt like snow

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff, FROM ME? THE WHOLE THING?? 
> 
> Happy Holidays, this was created for the shklance winter exchange, I hope you enjoy!

“This sucks.” 

“Gonna need you to be a little more specific. The hangover? The glaring light from the window I just opened for you? Or did you mean Christmas itself because damn, I’ll drink to that... again.”

Lance just groaned in return, chucking a stray pillow haphazardly, face still crammed into the sheets beneath him. It was really too early for this, or at least it felt like it and certainly too early to even attempt to find his phone to look at the time. The pillow flopped unceremoniously on the floor not even halfway to where Keith stood.

“You’re on the suck list too now. You suck. Everything sucks. Why’d you let me drink all of that? You know I can’t tell with eggnog, Keith! You _know_ it just tastes really good and I forget about the rum and I don’t even remember making it back here last night... Do you?”

Keith only sighed, removing himself from the doorframe and making his way over to the weird pile of blankets and pillows that Lance called his bed. He’d never admit to liking the controlled mess but said nothing as he crawled his way in, digging until he found the right corner of blanket to slip himself into the warm cocoon.

“We didn’t drink nearly as much as you. Let’s see, you tried to hit on Pidge’s brother again, you bet Hunk your PS4 that you could win an arm wrestling match against him and, uh, I’m sure you can guess how that went. Around midnight you decided the party was too hot and that your ugly Christmas sweater was coming off, and then so should the rest of your clothes, so Shiro just sort of…”

This groan was worse, deeper and more painful as Lance tried to burrow further into his pillows and block out the rest of the world. “Please. Please tell me I didn’t….”

“I mean, you _were_ going to but Shiro pushed your shirt down and your jeans back up and we said our goodbyes. Merry Christmas to everyone that got to see your SpongeBob underwear, I guess.”

Lance said nothing this time, instead going for the ‘pretend the world doesn’t exist but against Keith’s inviting chest’ as he fumbled around and kicked at his sheets until he could actually feel skin on skin.

“None of this is my fault,” Lance whined. “That stupid final had me so stressed, the only way I made it through was thinking about the party and just... when I got there, everything... you know.” He made his point with a lopsided spin of fingers dangerously close to Keith’s nose. “Spaghettied out of my pockets.”

“Lance, everyone there last night knew you, it wasn’t anything different. I think Allura made that face _because_ she’s seen that exact pair of yellow underwear so maybe now she just thinks you only have one pair at all? Whatever, Shiro was too quick with damage control, I didn’t get to ask her.”

“You aren’t making this any better for me. What time is it anyway?” Lance made a valiant effort to twine himself around Keith, shoving his legs between and wrapping his arms around what he could reach. Keith, who had grown used to this behavior and learned the hard way that trying to escape only meant a tighter grip, let him have his way.

“Ten something,” Keith mumbled in his ear “Shiro left for the gym, should be back soon. Fair warning, he’s probably gonna force-feed you some weird protein smoothie and make you chug a bunch of water -- he did that to me last time.” Keith’s memory of that night was fuzzy, but boy did he remember everything that happened the next morning. Shiro was relentless.

“Does he know just because a gym is 24/7 that doesn’t mean he actually has to go every single day? Like, I know it’s not cheap but come on, it's Christmas.”

Keith hid a smile to himself, fingers automatically weaving through Lance’s mop of bedhead as he considered his other boyfriend/roommate. How they all came together was a long, confusing story and one that certainly didn’t start with typical dating. Shiro was older, of course, not by much but enough to be two years ahead of them in college and thus two years more on track with his life. He’d already finished, Lance and Keith getting a chance to be a part of the graduation crowd, to see where they’d be in a few short years. Shiro had moved on to his masters and decided to complement that with a teaching assistant job and through it all he stayed living in the same halfway-decent apartment with Matt.

It was Keith, actually, who wrangled Lance into this situation. Both of them were the same year and had ended up scrambling for a place to live; Keith happened to know Shiro, happened to know Matt was moving out for something closer to his new job and... well, the cards were in favor.

The rest was a strange trail of glimpses when they thought no one was looking, or long nights with too much vodka and too many secrets haphazardly thrown into the space between all of them. Eventually, those secrets became questions, questions became actions, and those actions slid from innocent touches during movie night to something more behind doors. _Which_ door never really mattered but if you asked all of them separately, Shiro’s room was the favorite since his bed was the largest.

Keith liked it here too though, in Lance’s room., Sometimes he’d come in here when he was at work or in class. He’d bury himself under the layers to hide away from whatever caused him enough stress to need the comfort, whatever pushed him hard enough to steal one of Shiro’s shirts and pretend he didn’t hear the front door when someone came home.

Keith tugged at a knot in Lance’s wild hair. “Shiro likes the structure of it, I guess. Told me once it helps him clear his head and focus, like it’s not just the staying in shape and sweating part that's important. I dunno, only ever bothered me when he’d get up at the ass-crack of dawn and wake me up after I’d crawled into his bed the night before.”

“Poor Keith. I’d never wake you up at ass o’clock, unless it meant something else.” Lance attempted a stupid eyebrow wiggle but made it a whole two seconds before wincing in pain and flopping back down to Keith’s chest to rub at his forehead. “I’d ask you to go get me some Advil but, you know, moving. Bad.”

“Guess we’re stuck here then. Forever. Christmas is ruined.” Keith felt the curl of lips against him, the soft huff of air of belated chuckling and ran his palm down the expanse of Lance’s back.

It was the first time they all happened to be in one place during this holiday. Lance usually went home; a long flight and a hefty price tag. Shiro preferred to stay with Matt and Pidge, a tradition they’d had long before Keith came into the picture. And Keith, well... Keith would be wherever; maybe work, maybe what he called home at the time being, but never really with anyone in particular.

Just being here right now, selfishly pressing Lance tighter to himself and waiting for Shiro... it wasn’t anything exciting but he couldn’t help feel excited anyway.

“Do you think he’ll like our presents? I didn’t go over budget or anything I just -- it’s Shiro, you know? Like, I want to get him anything that would make him smile like that... you know the one, right? When he’s for real happy, not just his ‘I’m being polite and listening to you’ smile?”

Keith knew. He knew that smile well, like it was imprinted on his mind. It was what made him fall for Shiro in the first place. “Well, did you get him matching SpongeBob underwear or…?”

“You aren’t ever going to let that go, are you? I told you _how_ many times now, I didn't buy those! Hunk gave them to me for my birthday. What am I gonna do, throw away a perfectly good pair of underwear?” Lance pouted, wiggling around until he could snake his fingers up and under Keith’s shirt to steal more warmth. “And I’m not telling you what I got him, I just _want_ _you_ to tell me Shiro will like it.”

“You worried? You shouldn’t be, it’s Shiro. You could cook him dinner and give him a kiss and he’d probably have trouble holding himself together. For someone who can call other people on their shit so easily, you’re pretty bad at it for yourself.”

Lance groaned theatrically. “Ugh, I know, I mean, you’re pretty easy, I had your gift way before even Thanksgiving, but…”

Keith was about to interject, curious as to what exactly Lance had squirreled away for over a month and what exactly made him so _easy_ but the sound of the front door clicking open had both of them tensing and looking up.

“Shit,” Keith muttered, “I said I’d put coffee on before he left but, uh…”

“We can hide, he’ll never find us.”

Before Keith could protest, Lance began tugging blankets over them both quickly, disguising him and Keith under the chaos of quilts and sheets.

They could hear Shiro move around the apartment: keys clinking on a counter, the sound of his gym bag hitting the floor, a low grunt as he bent over to do something. Lance, despite this being his idea, was having the most trouble keeping still and quiet. Keith wrapped a hand around his mouth, hissing low for him to stop while the sound of footsteps got closer and closer.

“Keith, I thought you said you’d start a pot of coffee?” Shiro walked down the short hallway that contained all of their bedrooms, stopping in front of Keith’s door first and frowning when he found the room empty. “...Keith?”

Of course, that very second, Lance let out a giggle that was just loud enough to not be muffled by Keith’s hand and layers of blanket. Shiro turned on the spot, eyes landing on the seemingly normal pile of blankets and pillows until he spotted the smallest movement towards the bottom, possibly the bump of a big toe against blanket.

“Huh, guess no one’s home then. I can’t believe both of my boyfriends would just leave on Christmas morning without me. It’s not like I spent months hand-picking their presents and hours wrapping each one with love and patience.” Shiro stood in front of Lance’s open door, hands on his hips and counting down the seconds until someone, probably Lance, would crack.

The whine that came in response was pitiful, full of surrender and paired with an annoyed growl at how easy Lance folded. Without any grace, Lance flung a few layers back, full-blown needy pout still smushed against Keith’s chest as they both stared at Shiro. “Come _on_ , that's not fair, Shiro! You’re the one that left to go to the gym on _Christmas_ morning.”

“Yeah, well, I was fairly certain you’d still be asleep anyway, considering last night and all,” Shiro teased, watching Lance’s pout sink further until he turned away altogether and petulantly hid his face back in Keith’s armpit.

Keith pet his fingers through brown hair once more, allowing Lance to be babied for a few additional moments before he planned to push the other out of their blanket fort and into a hot spray of water. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “got sidetracked, as you can see. Mind taking over? Someone’s grumpy and needs a shower, and I think someone _else_ smells like gym shorts and could use one as well…”

“Only if you use the good coffee stash in the back of the pantry, and also clean my favorite mug.” Shiro smiled as Keith rolled his eyes, his gaze lingering on them both a little longer than needed, enjoying how well they fit together and how at ease Lance was. 

It wasn’t always like that.

It took a while for everything to click together right, took a few months of Keith actually opening up enough and for all of the little arguments with Lance to stop being fights and translating to what they actually were: pent-up tension of a different origin. Shiro always fell into a mediator role, and not just with the two of them, but he had his own hang-ups as well. Overly cautious, somewhat shy when directly propositioned, and forever concerned how anything would impact the future. It took Keith, of all people, to break into that nervous cycle and drag forth who Shiro really was: sweet, caring, and commanding if the situation called for it. Lucky for him, his two boyfriends had no qualms with that last part, sometimes even purposely egging each other on just to get Shiro riled up.

Unsurprising to anyone, adding Lance into the mix was the extra little push of controlled chaos that somehow made sense, somehow worked just right and filled in the gaps that were too small for Shiro and too big for Keith.

Lance, of course, did not have a chance. Not back then when Keith made the first move and then Shiro made the second, and not right now either when they both seamlessly worked together without a word.

Shiro stalked over with a few short steps and Keith ripped every single blanket off Lance, arm tightening around his frame when as he tried to screech and tug everything back up, fighting against the cold air while Shiro just laughed.

Without warning he was hauled up and over Shiro’s shoulder, his whine of protest quickly turning sour as he wiggled for a moment -- and then stopped completely once it hit him how terrible he felt.

“Please,” he begged, “please put me down -- Shiro, you’re still _sticky_ and just thinking about that is making me grossed out and I... upside down is not great for me right now… I’m not gonna make it...”

Shiro was still laughing. “You’ll be fine. A quick shower with me, plenty of water, maybe some plain multigrain toast... good as new.” He patted Lance’s bare thigh, ignoring the yellow cartoon face plastered everywhere across his boxers and instead looked back at Keith as he peeled himself from Lance’s bed. “Presents after? I wanted to get everything else out of the way so the rest of the day’s free for... whatever you want.”

The last bit was meant for both of them but it was Keith who confirmed it, sliding into Shiro’s space, rocking up on his toes and then pressing sure lips to surprised ones. He pulled back before Shiro even had a chance to catch up.

“ _Whatever I want_ sounds great.” He left then, slipping around Shiro and ruffling Lance’s hair as he passed by.

They both liked to call Lance the tease but Keith had plenty of bite as well.

“Traitor! I was having a _nice_ time, Keith! We were having a moment! Bonding, even!” Lance squawked after him. “Shiro doesn’t know how to have a proper, relaxing shower! My hair’s going to feel terrible for a whole week and guess who has to deal with that? _You_! You do! Do you even remember last time, because I do, and let me tell you something--”

Keith missed most of his tirade, Lance’s voice trailing down the hallway as Shiro carried him over shoulder like he barely weighed more than a wet box of noodles. His thoughts drifted somewhere else while the rest of him traveled to the kitchen, digging in the back of the narrow, mostly useless cabinet that housed their scarce coffee supply and Lance’s seemingly never-ending pyramid of tea. The good stash, as Shiro referred to it, was something of a splurge, that fifteen dollar bag of heaven from the only shop in town that wasn’t a chain. It was a good location for the college crowd and they stayed open late on finals week, even handed out a few cups on the house to particularly downtrodden students.

Keith watched the grounds sift out, the darkest blend they had for sale, the kind that Shiro drank black and Lance drank with more milk and sugar than should ever be allowed (and Keith somewhere in the middle of all that). He’d considered a bag of this for Christmas -- a different flavor, maybe they had something festive for the month -- but in the end, and by random chance, Keith found what he considered the perfect gift for Shiro. Or so he hoped.

Maybe he should go make that toast for Lance before his nerves got the best of him, the ever-present ‘you could just leave and turn your phone off’ flight response still hard to erase even after they’d all integrated with each other.

\----

“Shiro, come _on_ , I can do it myself, you aren’t even doing it right!” Lance huffed, hands trying to rip away the towel that was currently not helping the growing headache at his temples. Shiro chuckled, dragging the damp thing in annoying circles, fluffing Lance’s hair until it stuck out in all directions.

“I’m doing it just fine,” Shiro insisted. “Keith never complains, he likes this part. Stay still.”

Lance continued to pout but it was only half-hearted, imagining a bristly Keith melting under Shiro’s hands with all of his quiet embarrassment. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that bad -- it’s not like Lance hated the pampering. It was more like he hated how quick it all was, Shiro on some too-fast internal clock and not letting Lance have his way under the hot spray of water. He’d never admit it, but it did make him feel better, or at least more alert. It was less of a hazy, messy hangover and more of a pinpointed, “need two ibuprofens and some fresh air” hangover now.

Merry Christmas, your present is the disaster that is Lance McClain.

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to drink all that, I didn’t know I was at ‘time for clothes to come off’ and I ruined Christmas morning and…”

Shiro put a stop to all of that quickly, a finger pressed against those pouty lips with a small shake of his head. He wrapped Lance the towel like a loose scarf and knelt in front of him, hands traveling until each palm cupped his boyfriend’s face. “You didn’t ruin anything, and honestly, no one at the party was very surprised -- everyone knows you, they all know us. Plus, that eggnog was pretty strong and I may or may not have watched you force Keith to blush three separate times and I wasn’t about to ruin _that_ whole situation.”

Lance smiled at that, his own hands tugging lightly at Shiro’s wrists until he could shift and plant a kiss to one of those big palms. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Shiro leaned down expectantly for a kiss on the lips, but Lance dodged him, shaking his head.

“We gotta go save Keith,” Lance told him. “He’s probably burnt my toast by now and I want my presents.”

\----

Keith, by what we’d all consider to be a Christmas miracle, did _not_ burn said toast. In fact, he’d been so hyper-focused on the task that in his opinion, it was the best toast ever made. Perfectly toasted, not burnt, and he even spread the butter across each slice, plopping a reasonable amount of cinnamon apple butter (exactly the kind of shit Lance buys whenever he goes to the grocery store hungry) on top. Shiro would complain; all the extra stuff was counterproductive to his plain bread hangover remedy but Keith knew, _knew_ Lance wouldn’t touch the multigrain disaster without all of this.  

He set out everything for coffee as well; Shiro’s favorite mug, Lance’s waiting with milk and sugar at the bottom, an extra glass of water and a bottle of pain meds. Not everyone got to know this part of Keith -- it was so easy to just see a fraction of him, the small part that he couldn’t hide away that the rest of the world had to see. There was a lot more there, a lot more caring, a lot more thought.

Keith glanced over to the living room, to the presents tucked under the miniature tree -- fake and a little lopsided and overloaded with the mishmash of ornaments from three very different people -- but it belonged to them and therefore it was perfect.

He was starting to get nervous again.

“God, yes, I’ve never been so happy to see toast for breakfast, you even put _both_ kinds of butter on it, just how I like. You’re the best.” Lance snuck up, wrapping his long arms around Keith’s waist, crowding him against the table and plopping his chin against Keith’s shoulder so he could press his cold nose against his boyfriend’s neck with a grin. “Shiro, you gotta catch up, Keith’s winning this whole morning.”

Lance reached over and, with no coordination, mashed some of the toast to his face, barely missing Keith’s cheek.

“Thanks, babe, s’good. You should open a breakfast place, quit school.”

“Shut up, Lance, it’s literally just toast. Everyone can do that -- well, besides Shiro.”

Keith stole a bite, hiding the flutter of pride that welled up from something so stupid and simple as Lance enjoying the bread he heated up for him. They both looked over when Shiro let a chuckle slip, his smile hidden behind his steaming mug, the letters scrolled across it in bright purple: _Best Boyfriend in the Galaxy._

Shiro let the mug sink lower, tilting his head toward the tree, regarding both of them in this small, insignificant moment, something so drastically normal and domestic, but special because it was both of them, together. They were both his.

“Presents?” he asked. And he was met with Lance’s wide grin and Keith’s determined nod.

\----

“Alright,” Lance fussed eagerly, “so all at the same time? Or, like -- okay, so Keith and I go at the same time, we open the presents from Shiro, and Shiro, you can wait and then… wait, no. Okay, how about I’ll…”

“Lance, stop. It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Keith shook his head, his nerves hidden under his slight frustration at how ridiculous Lance could be. “We each have two presents, right? We should just all open the first one at the same time, and then open the second one at the same time, too.”

“No, that doesn’t work because then we’re all distracted by what we’re opening! I don’t want to miss that part!” Lance pouted on the couch, clutching his two presents to his chest, half his coffee left forgotten on the living room table. He looked silly, like a petulant child, his hair still mussed from his earlier shower and his red and green reindeer print pajama bottoms not helping.

“Lance,” Shiro interrupted, perched on the arm of the couch and still nursing his cup of coffee, both of his presents on the seat right below him. “How about you open yours first, one at a time, and then Keith, and then me. Okay?”

Keith nodded from the floor, sitting with his back against the table and his presents splayed between his crisscrossed legs. “Shiro’s right, considering you look like you’re about to lose it if we make you wait any longer.”

Lance threw him a scowl, one that was familiar but lacked any real anger behind it. “Huh, weird, Shiro just jumped to top of the boyfriend list, wonder how that happened? Hey, Keith, just curious, but do you know what coal smells like? Totally unrelated to anything, just wanted to know.”

Keith shook his head, the threat of a grin creeping across his lips as he let a foot slip and knock against Lance’s ankle. “Nope, no idea, why do you ask? Worried about your presents? Maybe you should have been less of a shit this year then.”

“Keith. Lance. It’s Christmas, _please_. This is supposed to be the fun part.” They both looked at Shiro, undoubtedly the most ‘adult’ of the three but his age only really showing in small bursts here and there. This was one of them. 

“Well, we all know I love to start things so…” Lance flashed a smile and somehow simultaneously ripped into both presents at once, all those years trying to get a girl to look at him while he double-handedly scribbled her name across the school’s chalkboard in shitty cursive finally somehow validated. Shiro’s gift was neat, small and compact while Keith’s was bulky and badly taped. In the moment Lance looked sort of like an over-hyper dog, presented with two toys and trying to jam both of them in his mouth at the same time.

“Oh my god. _Oh my god_ , I can’t believe either of you! How did you -- I mean, I know I talk, like pretty much all the time, but I didn’t… neither of these…” Lance’s face, both his boyfriends had learned pretty early on, was incapable of hiding any emotion. Currently, it was doing that soft chin wobble, when you know you’re about to cry but keep fighting it.

Half of the nervousness left Keith immediately, watching those long, perfect fingers slide over the plush blue bathrobe and matching slippers as if they were sacred and not something from the mall. “You didn’t have to say anything, idiot,” Keith told him. “I saw you staring at that for like five minutes, and it’s pretty rare for anything to keep your attention that long.” 

From the couch, Shiro reached down to where Lance sat, his hand smoothing over Lance’s as it traced the corners of his gift, a set of rather fancy face lotion and bath oil he’d _also_ been staring at in a certain store he always wandered into and left with nothing.

“You spent too much.” Almost a whisper, but they both caught it and Shiro only gave Lance’s hand a squeeze in return.

“No, you deserve that,” Shiro said, “and knowing you, you’ll make it last twice as long as it’s supposed to. I wanted you to have it.”

At that, Lance finally did allow himself to cry, shoving his presents to his face and letting the robe collect his tears before he let out a groan that sounded almost painful. “I’m too hungover for this, don’t look at me. Keith! Open yours! I just... I gotta... Give me a minute.”

Shiro patted Lance’s shoulder before looking over to Keith, sharing a knowing smile as Lance stifled his sniffles and rubbed at his eyes. It was true: neither of these things were items he’d asked for, but on the rare occasion that they did make the trek to the mall, Keith and Shiro hung back and watched. Eventually, Lance would shift from excitedly explaining something or holding up an item of clothing to either of them and insisting they buy it to wandering off by himself. They waited for those moments, those rare silent ones when he’d hold something in his hands and then sigh and put it back, ignorant that anyone else was watching him besides the salesperson, who’d always ask if he needed help finding something.

He never needed the help and he almost never bought anything for himself.

Keith scooted closer, his foot purposely knocking against Lance’s now, brushing his sock-clad toes over and over until Lance looked up with teary eyes and a goofy grin.

“Stop playing footsies with me and open your presents,” Lance said, voice hoarse. “I’m still mad at you for buying me this.”

Keith knew that was a straight up lie and he did not stop pressing his foot against Lance’s,  never missing an opportunity to spite his boyfriend. “Uh huh. I better see you in that later, I’ll need a full twirl too.”

With a final eyebrow tilt and half smirk to his other-other better half, Keith held up Shiro’s present first, the smooth wrapping and near seamless lines impossible at hiding what it could be. Shaped like a book, naturally Keith assumed it was -- until he tore back a corner and revealed soft, black leather and a bright, skinny red ribbon attached to the binding. The front said nothing and when opening it, creamy, unlined blank pages stared back at him.

“I noticed how close you were to the end of your current sketchbook, I assume there's even less space now. This should be enough for the new year, right?” Shiro’s voice was quiet, considerate as Keith just stared at his gift, running his fingers over the front. His face was emotionless but they all knew that was possibly the peak of emotions from Keith, unable to land on one solid feeling so exactly none of them could show through.

“Thank you.” Keith urged his voice not to crack but, well, can’t always get what you want in life. Shiro said nothing of it and Lance stayed silent, both smiling at him as he placed it gently on the table and grabbed at Lance’s gift.

“Man, you almost broke him, Shiro... I dunno how I’m supposed to measure up to _that_ ,” Lance teased, shoving his foot against Keith to let him know his words carried no malice.

Keith’s previous soft demeanor shifted, staring right at Lance as he ripped into his gift without abandon, watching his boyfriend’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. 

“Hey, come on!” Lance squawked. “I wrapped that perfectly and you didn’t even look! Do you have any idea how many presents I’ve wrapped in my life?! I can _for sure_ put that on my resume, Keith, and you didn’t even care, you just...”

“Shut up, Lance.” Keith wasn’t looking at him anymore -- instead, his eyes were stuck on the small item in his lap. It was a carabiner: dark, gleaming metal, heavy enough that Keith could feel it in his palm but not enough to be annoying. Attached to it by a loop was a small leather tag, no name printed on it, but the color of it near matched the journal Shiro had gifted him moments ago.

Lance launched into an explanation without waiting to be asked. “So, like, I remember you bitching about your keychain and I saw this, right, and I was like, ‘that looks just as dark and broody as Keith does!’ So, there it is, now it’s yours, and I was totally right.” He gleamed as Keith, tucking stray strands of his unruly hair behind his ear, looked back up at him. Keith knew Lance well enough to tell that he was nervous about this, something as silly and small as a keychain.

“It’s perfect, but I don’t need to tell _you_ that, do I? Both of you.” Keith made sure Shiro was looking at him as well. “Really, these are… things I needed, and I like them a lot more coming from you.”

Keith got matching smiles in response, swallowing the emotions that threatened to spill out if he kept talking. Shiro’s emotions always came across so natural and encompassing and warm, and Lance, he never bothered to put a filter on his, always immediate and in your face. Out of the three of them, Keith seemed to stumble the most, but neither of his boyfriends ever complained; they’d learned to give him time and to find the words he wanted to share, and read the ones that weren’t said but hidden underneath.

Clearing his throat, Keith recovered, pushing his other foot across the floor to nudge against Shiro’s. “Your turn.”

“But this is _my_ present, watching both of you open yours.” Shiro pretended innocence when he got two annoyed groans in return, the sappy line doing its job.

“If you drag this out any longer I’ll go throw mine in the trash,” Keith threatened with a scowl.

Meanwhile, Lance shoved himself against Shiro’s legs, looking equally dangerous... “If you don’t open these now, big man, I’ll keep them for myself. Chop chop, we don’t have all day. Well, we _do_ have all day but I want other stuff, hot chocolate and that Christmas movie with the ‘you’ll shoot your eye out’ line -- and I want fancy lunch! Shiro, hurry _up_.”

Shiro said nothing more, rubbing at his chin in feigned thought as he hefted one present in his hand and then the other. They both seemed about the same, one box (Lance’s) cleverly shaped to hide any hint at what it was and the other (Keith’s) wrapped so sloppily that it was impossible to tell. He decided on Lance’s first, tearing at it carefully and grunting in displeasure at the soft chuckle from across the couch when he realized a certain someone had also taped all four sides of the box shut. With some deft finger work, Shiro popped the top of it and looked in, still unprepared for what the other could have deemed a worthy gift for a man that didn’t ever say he wanted anything.

There was no poetic way to describe what he saw now. Objectively, it was a pair of socks covered liberally with a repeating cartoon Santa Claus print.. He could hear Lance trying to hold in his laughter and Keith craning his neck to peek at what laid in his lap. What was worse was the fact that Shiro himself was having trouble keeping a straight face.

The Santa was buff, flexing one arm and surrounded by garish text that said _Happy Swole-idays_.

Lance sounded like he was choking on suppressed giggles when he said, “Shiro, you _have_ to. Do it for me. You have to wear those at the gym tomorrow, it’s the law.”

He finally broke when Shiro groaned, rubbing his palm over his face and tilting the box down for Keith to see the monstrosities it contained.

When Keith said nothing, not even a quick laugh to join in, they both turned to him to catch his barely audible mumble of “Shit.”.

“Dude, what’s wrong? I mean I know they’re kind of stupid, but I thought it was funny…” Lance looked uncertain now, the creep of rejection in his voice.

“No, no, it’s not that, it's not that at all... I just... Shiro, just open mine.” Keith chewed at his lip, fingers tracing the gift Lance gave him over and over to quell the uneasy feeling in his gut.

“Alright…” Quietly, Shiro placed Lance’s socks back to the couch, swapping it for Keith’s and peeling back the wrapping paper just as delicately as he had before.

Both of his boyfriends waited, unable to see what was inside the box... For several beats, he said nothing, each passing second making Keith that much more nervous until the sharp bark of laughter stunned him speechless. 

“What? What is it? Shiro, show me, I wanna see, Keith already knows!”

But Shiro was nearly doubled over, the gift squashed in his lap as he shook with genuine laughter and waved his free hand absently in Lance’s direction like that would mean anything to either of them.

‘Give -- give me a -- hold on, I just need a…” Another fit of laughter shook him and all he could do was tug the gift off his lap and, hold it out unsteadily in Lance’s direction.

And there it was, right in front of him, a buff reindeer flexing both stacked arms, muscles rendered in uncomfortable detail, surrounded by festive banners of text which said _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Gaindeer_.

“Oh my god, are you _serious_ ? Keith -- Keith, where did you even -- we didn’t -- Shiro, I _swear_ we didn’t! I didn’t know! Keith. _Keith._ Where did you find...” Lance reached out, his body shaking and causing his fingers to stutter as he traced the stupid reindeer face plastered on the pair of socks.

Keith was silent, long enough for the laughter to die down and for both of his boyfriends to look over, Shiro wiping tears from the corners of his eyes and Lance tucking both pairs close to each other on the couch. Keith’s face was red, the sort of red it got when he ran too long and fast to catch the city bus, redder than the moments Lance said exactly the right teasing words when they were all sandwiched together under the blankets.

“I didn’t know either, I hope it’s not... Shiro, you got us _these_ and you just have...” Keith mumbled, low and uncharacteristically dejected, “...socks.”

But Shiro was having none of that. The lingering laughter in his throat died and he sunk to the floor next to Keith, pulling Lance with him and effectively pinning Keith in the middle so he could never run away.

“They’re perfect and I love them,” Shiro said, firm and gentle. “You know I couldn’t care less about what it is, it’s the fact that you see something and think of someone important to you. The chance of you both remembering I’m extremely partial to socks _and_ somehow managing to match…” Shiro didn’t need to finish that.

Keith looked up, trying to erase his unruly anxiety, trying to just be okay with the fact that Shiro was somehow okay. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Lance was learning how to do it, but Shiro was still the best at it: knowing the quickest to fizzle away whatever was trying to wear him down. Keith felt the warm press of Shiro’s lips against his own, felt Lance’s nose against his neck and tickling in his hair. He felt sure hands searching, wrapping around his waist and shoulders and he felt his own smile against Shiro’s, mirroring Lance’s in the crook of his neck.

When Lance spoke, Keith felt his mouth moving against his skin. “Merry Christmas, Keith, and I’m sorry I said you suck, because you don’t.”

And Keith finally broke; he laughed, spilling across Shiro’s lips and pressing over his cheeks, wiggling his fingers to thread through Lance’s.

It was their first Christmas together, but hopefully far from the last, Keith secretly promising to himself that he’d give proper payback in the form of hideous matching yellow boxers.


End file.
